Willem Ngouane - From his shadow to his darkness. Story of a downfall

Her name was Caroline… This coincidence provoked a strange attraction in me; I was now treating her more kindly. She was stunning. While working with her, I noticed again her nice derriere. Some minutes later, we were discussing in a friendly atmosphere as two old colleagues; she was less reserved. I succeeded to make her open up. That’s how she detailed me her school background; she had a master’s degree in Bilingual Letters and Translation. It really impressed me. She looked too young to have attained such an academic level. Shortly after, we arrived at the office I chose for her at the Operational Department. I presented her to the chief of the department and left him some instructions. Christian, as they called him, couldn’t hide his feelings; he was shocked to see such a beautiful lady. I had never seen him that excited to welcome a newcomer before. The funniest thing was that the lady did not even notice the impact she had on him as she was seriously concentrated to appear sympathetic in this unknown universe she was brought into. After we exchanged friendly smiles, I left her and promised myself to keep my eyes on her knowing all the dangerous male of this office.

In the afternoon, as traditionally every third Wednesday of the month, Mister Minister invited his closest collaborators for a dinner. Contrary to our past consideration of this tradition, as many of us usually thought it was just a waste of money and time, this time around, we felt the necessity of it and took it as a good opportunity to have a good time and momentarily run away from the tension occurring in the office during that period. The place chosen by mister minister was the restaurant, “Monte Carle,” the best restaurant in the city, known for its amazing cuisine and the reputation of its chef, but very expensive for average people in the country. The cheapest plate there cost equivalent as food allowance for over three days for most families in the capital city. But that was the choice of Mister Minister. Who could blame him? He had the means, and sometimes, we all needed to enjoy life as far as we find time and money for.

When we arrived there, they welcomed us like kings by the restaurant staff. They were so excited to receive such high personalities, particularly the legendary Mister Agbwala. He was also cool with them, really at ease, calling everybody by their name like they were longtime friends. The female workers of the restaurant were more agitated than their male colleagues; it couldn’t be otherwise, seeing all these rich and powerful men were turning them into a trance. They were smiling for no reasons, displaying an eccentric cordiality. Many of them could easily offer their body to a man even if he was married just because of money; one has to be naïve to think dating this kind of girl will be a sincere love affair. But taking into consideration the poverty in our country, their salary and the harsh living conditions in the capital city, were they blameful?

Mister Minister requested the most expensive Champagne and some costly wine bottles. I was thrilled to see him in that humor, smiling, chilling, and joking. It was a memorable dinner, a break in a tense period we were facing.

“Why all this hate? Why all this jealousy? Why Paul?”

The disenchantment full inside this passionate tirade had me imprisoned in a unique ambiguity at the beginning of a day I was expecting to be sunny and joyful. It got me to sink inside a huge confusion and left me with a difficult decision to make: which attitude should I have knowing that the author of this question was eventually talking alone even though he addressed me expressively and directly? I was facing a high risk of an incorrect judgment, taking the responsibility to respond could even worsen the psychological condition of this man already full of disappointment. Adding to the fact that consoling and reassuring people was not my biggest qualities, it was hard to pretend to have the solution to calm this kind of metabolism possessed by violent doubts. So I turned dumb, my mouth paralyzed, static like one of those Madame tusseauds celebrity’s statues. I was once again displaying my lack of valor, but what else could I do; the level of his disillusion was too high!

“Did you read this bullshit?” He added while pointing me to a newspaper, the damned edition which had surely suffered a lot on his hands when he was expressing his anger towards the editors. The scene made me remember a childhood memory; his displeasure was as high as the disappointment of my mother whenever she found out that the home duty he assigned to me in the morning before leaving the house wasn’t complete upon her arrival after her harsh job activities.

I replied to him with silence once more, and it had become very uncomfortable. The vigor of this last question was forcing me to give an answer even if it was a lame one, plus his depressed attitude after my voiceless reply got me into a strange shame. The reaction became a necessity; he was, therefore, displaying a pitiful sadness that made me feel as if I was deliberately refusing to console him. I was now willing to say something, but what could I say? I didn’t even read that article. I barely read tabloid and generally, every opposition’s media channel. In fact, for me, reading those newspapers was masochistic and useless, just a big waste of time. Like many civil servants and workers in public administration, knowing the hate that they exhibited towards the government and the establishment, I had always viewed those media as horrible vultures.

“No sir, I hadn’t read it yet,” I said with much delicacy. After my answer, his body language displayed dissatisfaction that I confusedly took as a deception towards my obvious lack of interest for the press. But in fact, he was just implicitly expressing the loneliness he felt, now that he could not count on sincere support from me. I really felt bad, his sadness became mine, my antipathy towards these people turned me into an incompetent and an unskilled advisor, and I couldn’t blame the ignorance. I was now regretting not to have read that article and to have always treated these media like a virus to avoid. Even though I disliked those tabloids, consulting them from time to time was also supposed to be a part of my professional duties, so I was reproachful. A profound sorrow touched me during the long second of silence that took place later on. Coming to see him early in the morning was finally not a good idea, I was now blaming my politeness, my intentions were to greet him and wish him a good day. But, it would have been preferable for me to stay in my office, I would have avoided this incongruous situation. The Herald’s article put him in a terrible mood; it was awful to witness!

“Those people are accusing me of any bad things, calling me names, can you imagine that in one article, they said that I was the joker of the president?” He said with a mix of irritation and discontent on his face. His detestation to that tabloid was furious; he was cursing the entire Herald organization, wishing hell for every single person working for that newspaper, from its general manager to its distributors.

“That’s terrible sir,” I reacted timorously after his complaints. My reply could have been better; it sounded like a lame effort to show my commiseration and displayed my deficient vocabulary when it comes to word of compassion; but after being soundless during his previous cries, I needed to say something to prove my concern and end the uncomfortable silence that was occurring. However, I was still hoping to console him a little, but the unhappiness on his face grew even bigger, he was now captive into darkness and sunk into obscure resentment.

“The worst is that they pretend that the charity event was nothing more than useless propaganda and that I was using these poor populations for my political ambitions. For them, I did nothing to change their situation, so what did they ever do for these Waloua people? Have they ever helped them?” He said while shaking his head in piteous distress. I was witnessing a hurting picture presenting a betrayed man, full of love for people but permanently subject to hate and jealousy. “Can’t you people see he is doing all he can for this country?” I said while crying in my heart.